The Boy and the Piper
by Idonquixote
Summary: Pre-series. The boy who cried wolf meets a young halfling. An enchanted flute and a trapped witch thirsty for  virgin blood. And Clorin village falls in flames.  A glimpse of Wolf's childhood and into Christine's mind.


**I seriously think this fandom needs a heavy boost. 12 years and only 10+ pages is not cool! So here's another thing to boost the fic counts. It looks a bit long, but only because there are lots of paragraph breaks.**

**Rated M for violence, blood, mental instability, and disturbing imagery.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The 10th Kingdom**

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><p>The Queen is not happy, not happy at all.<p>

Christine is scared, Christine is- Christine is no more. She wants what _she_ wants and she wants- escape- to be loyal.

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><p>Luca was naughty, the naughtiest boy in Clorin Village, and anyone who lived within two houses of him would know: this boy was a liar. Only twelve and he was already infamous for losing the whole village's flock in one day (that had been two years ago). The only one who trusted him to be a sheperd was his own father, his love-blind, bumbling father.<p>

Whistling to himself, the boy walked his father's sheep into the pastures, keeping his staff ahead and wondering what forms of mischief he could wreak on the people of Clorin.

Maybe he would relieve himself in the village well, or cut Little Mary's braids, or switch Old Heinrich's ewe with a goat.

He lost a sheep per day.

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><p>The Queen plots and listens.<p>

She needs to go yonder, she needs to run, before they catch her. She has left the town of Hamelin behind, the blood washed from her hands.

She goes into the little village, cloaked and disguised. She needs a child- she needs more children. No! Christine cries.

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><p>"I don't know!" Luca yelled.<p>

"What happened to the sheep? We've lost five already!"

"I don't know!"

His father grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him roughly. "I can't afford to lose more, Luca!"

"It was a wolf!"

"That again! That again! You're the boy who cried wolf, Luca- you have to change!"

The boy's cheeks flushed with anger before he wriggled out of his father's grip and left the house.

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><p>Clorin Village is simple and pretty, a tiny wooden place filled with rosy-cheeked sheperds and sheperdesses. It is surrounded by green woods and lovely soft grass. Its people do not think too much.<p>

Their life is simple and they are content. Such a pity, such a pity! Christine thinks. She seeks shelter and the bumbling man is too happy to oblige.

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><p>"Alright- come on out, now. Come out, you son of a..."<p>

Crouching by the rocks, Luca waited, patiently for _it_ to come out. The lamb was a few feet away, dumb and waiting. He would clear his name tonight and his father would have to say sorry. He sneered at the thought.

The figure jumped out, almost flew at the lamb, the dim outline of a human shape under the crescent moon beams. It snarled and growled, tearing at the bleating lamb. Luca watched with fascination and horror, feeling a sheen of cold sweat come on.

He heard gurgling and growling from the thing as it tore the lamb apart. _What is it?_ Luca crawled closer. It continued to gnaw at the lamb's legs before spilling the creature's organs on the bloody grass. It sighed, satisfied, and continued its slaughter.

"Ah, ah, ah..." the thing seemed to say, in between intervals of snarling and sniffing.

The boy dug inside his pocket and his fingers closed around the lone match. He was shaking- the thing's teeth glinted in the light, its mouth closing in on the scarlet wool and tearing bits, strands of flesh out.

Snuff. Snuff.

The match lit, a small flame in front of Luca's nose. It didn't light the scene as much as he had hoped, but already too much for comfort. He saw the carnage, the blood spilled on the grass, the pinkish insides strewn all over the ground, and the red-soaked teeth.

Yellow eyes were wide. Yellow eyes stared into his own.

The swish of a tail behind the creature. Bushy and thick.

"Wolf," the boy mouthed.

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><p>The Queen is pretty, raggedy in her disguise but still very pretty. She tells the silly man not to worry about his son- that children love to play and they will be back soon. She lies to him and pretends to weep.<p>

She kisses him and pulls at his vest. She knows how to make him stop worrying. No! Christine screams. But no one can hear.

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><p>Luca screamed and screamed as the wolf pinned him down, its claws digging so deep into his shoulders that he could feel the blood. The breath was hot on his face and the eyes seemed to bore into him.<p>

"Wolf! Wolf!" he cried, but no one could hear.

The tears came down. He was sobbing, crying, sobbing for father, for the mother that was dead, for the sheperds, for anyone he knew.

And the eyes turned green.

Almost guiltily, the monster slid off him and sunk into the grass.

"Cry anymore and I'll eat you."

He froze- the voice was not guttaral, not even vaguely threatening save the feral edge. It was a light voice, almost soft. That of someone who could be his schoolmate. A child's.

"D- don't eat me," he begged, "nobody believes anything I say! Honest!"

The match stayed lit, lying flat on the ground. The monster(?), wolf(?) was crouched opposite him, naked body smeared with dirt and blood, its head a mess of shaggy, long hair. But it was a human body, with human arms, legs, and hands. Hands with long, dirty nails.

"Promise not to say a word."

"B- but my father- he'll kick me out." That was a lie.

"Then I'll kill you here!"

"No! I swear on my mother's life!"

The other seemed to dwell for a moment's time. "Fine."

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><p>The Queen knows he is the father of a boy who cried wolf. The boy is a liar. Naughty and vile.<p>

No, she needs a purer child. When he wakes, she asks him about the children of Clorin. She needs him to tell her fast.

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><p>The morning sun shone down and Luca approached the pasture warily. The splotch of dry blood was still there- he felt sick thinking about it.<p>

He walked towards the bush, step by step, clutching the package tight to his chest. "Wolf," he whispered, then louder, "wolf, come out, I have something for you. See? I'm not here to hurt you."

_So just come out already! I'll have you gutted in no time at all._

Something growled back.

"Wolf, I've got no weapons. No one's with me." That part was true. He wasn't going to do any gutting _now_.

The animal crawled out of the bushes, tail wagging, still nude and dirty. "Give it here," it commanded.

He threw the package at the wolf and it immediately tore it apart. A fresh lamb chop lay in its hands.

"Why?"

The voice was laced with surprise, almost tender.

"You let me go."

Silence. The wolf ate, sloppily and violently. It gnawed at the bone while Luca stared.

"You don't look the wolves I know."

"Cause I'm not."

"What are you?"

It seemed to twitch nervously. "Half-wolf."

Luca gasped. He didn't know those things actually existed. It was revolting, disgusting, exhilarating to know. Then he wondered- if the wolf had a human's body, wouldn't it have a human's face?

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><p>She knows what to do. She charms the flute with the spell the witch gave her. She ignores the lying little boy.<p>

Christine is dying. She is dying from it all.

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><p>"I've brought you food again," Luca said.<p>

Suspiciously, the wolf sniffed the chops before tearing into them as he had the other day. Wiping the grease and saliva from his face, concealed by all the hair, he added a quiet "thank you."

Luca held up a pair of shears.

"I can cut your hair, half-wolf."

"No."

"I won't hurt you."

"Huff puff, that's what they all say."

"Trust me."

And twitching and flinching, the wolf stayed still as Luca took a lock of hair and snip, snip, snip, cut the mass of black away.

The grass was littered with dark strands. The hair barely reached beyond the wolf's neck.

Its face was as dirty as the rest of the body, but the green eyes, straight nose, and normal lips told him that this was indeed a human face. And upon further inspection, the human face of a boy no older than himself.

"How long you been here?"

"Not very long."

"Where you from?"

"The second kingdom."

"Do you want some clothes?" Luca had meant it as a joke.

"Yes, please, very, very much," the wolf replied almost immediately.

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><p>The dumb sheperd's son is away. She uses the time to play her flute. The children follow and sing and dance.<p>

Chubby sheperdesses, wide-eyed girls, and energetic little boys.

They sing together and she kisses them, hugs them, loves them.

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><p>The half-wolf was not ugly. No, not ugly at all. Luca was almost jealous of that face.<p>

It- he (after seeing it bathe clearly, Luca knew for sure it was a he) came out of the river and shook himself dry, grinning as Luca handed him a set of clothes. He sniffed the fabric and seemed to sigh as he rubbed it against his cheeks.

"You wear clothes?"

"Yes, but that was before the fifth kingdom."

"The fifth kingdom?" Luca's mind went to dirty thoughts and he laughed aloud. "What were you doing there?"

The wolf frowned as he tucked his tail into the pants. "I was a toy."

Luca frowned. He didn't know what that meant but from the tales he'd heard of the fifth kingdom, that sounded like another word for-

"But why?"

"I don't know. A troll sold me."

Luca had been planning to gut him that night. But those words made him feel pity(?) guilt(?).

"How'd that happen?"

"I don't know. It just did. It doesn't matter that much- I'm just a half-wolf."

"Do you want to go home?"

"I don't have one anymore."

Luca sat him down and decided to cut the wolf's nails. His shoulders were still scarred from the first encounter.

"Who are you?" the half-wolf asked, absolutely bewildered by the boy's hospitality.

"Name's Luca. I'm a sheperd- don't panic. Nobody believes a word I say; I'm the boy who cried wolf, you know?"

"It was you..." The half-wolf was staring at him like he was some sort of legendary figure come true. He had to blush at that and nod with pride.

"What's your name?"

An odd growl.

"Well?"

The same growl. "That's my name."

"I can't pronounce that. I wanna call you something else."

"Warren?"

Luca snorted. "That sounds so plain. How about..."

The wolf boy raised a hand with half-cut nails and scratched his temple as Luca finished: "how about Wolf?"

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><p>It is the fourth day of her stay. She is humble and kind. The Queen helps the sheperd cook.<p>

She plays her flute and makes the children happy.

Be happy, my dears, be happy! Sing, sing, dance, and dance!

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><p>Luca wasn't sure what he was doing. He dangled a straw in his mouth, lips pursed, and glanced at his companion. Wolf was scratching his temples rather roughly and turning his head left and right- his movements were so sudden that Luca was rather annoyed.<p>

"Oy, if my father finds out I lost another lamb, he's going to kill me."

"Oh."

"Please, just let me show him it was you- I don't want to be the village liar forever."

"He won't burn me?"

"No, I promise." _Like hell I would._

"We'll see... I guess."

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><p>On the sixth day, they form a circle around her, smiling, charmed children. Go away, dears, go away, Christine pleads.<p>

The Queen loves them like her own. She takes their hands and they skip away.

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><p>They played and Luca made his first friend. One who did not call him a liar or a lazy good-for-nothing.<p>

He almost felt guilty about what he was planning. He was going to lead Wolf to his flock and have his father watch the half-wolf make short work of the sheep. His name would be cleared.

But Wolf would be dead.

And as they played with splashing water and ran down the meadows, he knew one thing for sure: the half-wolf wasn't the monster he had been hoping to slay. He was just a lost boy.

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><p>Day seven and the clock ticks soon. Soon, soon, soon.<p>

She prepares her spells and sharpens the dagger, the shiny, stainless steel. It is beautiful, pure.

I need blood, the Swamp Witch says, I need blood.

I will bring it to you, the Queen says, I will bring it to you.

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><p>"Did you see a lot of gingerbread back home?" Luca couldn't help but ask.<p>

"No, that's in the south- I'm from the north; that's where most of the wolves are."

Luca shuddered at the image. Oh, it would be thrilling and horrible to live there, to come out at night when the woods were dark and misshapen... and the moon was oh so high.

"Wolf, let's play another game of tag- you're it!"

As the other boy gave chase, Luca shot back "and no running on all fours!"

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><p>It is midnight and Clorin is ruined. She lights a match and lets it fall, fall, fall.<p>

Come, children, come! The fires burn and burn. Clorin is burning.

Children, go! Christine screams. The men and women form a mob, hysterical and scared. They follow, but the children are fast and the Queen is faster.

The flute plays.

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><p>"Do you want to see my home?"<p>

"I shouldn't."

"Don't worry- no one will know."

"I really shouldn't."

"Oh cripes, Wolf! Come on- we're not gonna kill you!"

Luca wasn't sure if that was a lie or not.

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><p>The naughty boy comes home with a prettier child. He sees the flames and mob.<p>

The flute is playing and Christine wails. The Queen laughs. The boy follows, his tainted friend moving along.

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><p>So much fire, burn, burn, burn! It's too hot for him, too hot, too hot!<p>

Luca had no idea what was going on; his house was in flames and his father was gone. They adults were charging for the mountains, pitchforks, rope, and axes ready. And there was that horrible, wonderful sound.

Come! Come! Come!

Wolf howled beside him, howled, howled. He clutched at Luca's arm, almost collapsing. Not again, he seemed to say, I can't go through that again. He was howling madly and Luca could barely hear.

He dragged his companion along, and they followed the crowd. Under the men's noses, they were gone, into the woods, up the path. It was dark and winding, and the trees were in garish, gnarled knots.

Father, help me! Help me!

Luca, not again! Not again!

Come, children, come!

Luca, I'm burning!

Father, I didn't lie! Father!

Come, come, come!

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><p>Christine bleeds and screams. Her daughter screams at her; mommy, no! Mommy no!<p>

I need the blood of pure young things to keep this body, the Swamp witch says, low and sly.

The little children cry and scream. The pretty, pure little girl lies in a bed of thorns, blood streaming in little rivelets on her pale body. The Queen holds the knife up, the children crying for their parents, for anyone to come.

They cannot move, frozen and silent. Their cries are silent!

You cannot go home, she laughs. Never, never- just like me- never!

There is so much blood, the girl falling slick and torn, her chest open and beating heart ripped out.

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><p>They came to a stop. The children screamed but no sound came out, and thorns were everywhere, over the mountain, in the grass, twisted and black around the children's legs.<p>

Luca stared, too scared to scream, Wolf still clutching his arm.

The knife plunged into the bound girl's chest and tore it open, the blood splashing out. All that blood.

"Come children, come, we're almost there, almost there," the cloaked woman cooed, so gentle and coaxing.

Another lay down and gasped as the thorns pricked his throat. He gasped and flailed- the knife came down.

In his stomach. Blood from the corners of his mouth and streaming crimson as the witch's fingers dug into the eyes. They came out of the socket and crimson gushed and gushed.

Luca felt the bile rise and leave his mouth. He coughed and sputtered, doubling over on the ground.

Luca, Luca! Wolf cried. Luca! He tugged and pulled.

Oh Cripes, oh cripes, father, save me! The witch loomed over him, the other children convulsing on the ground.

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><p>She sticks her finger in the socket, gracefully, lodges it right behind the ball, the sticky, wet thing. And pop.<p>

I need the eyes of bad little virgins to see, says the Swamp Witch, just a bit more, my dear. Just a bit more, then you will be done.

Pluck, pull. Out it comes, ripped.

Lodge, pluck, pull.

The child cries and gasps, its life draining and face a mess of eyeless red. The pupils stare up at Christine and the Queen crushes the eyes, until there's nothing left but a pile of red and white mush.

Help me! Christine screams.

The Queen is angry, it was going perfectly. The blood of young, pure virgins on her knife. And here is that boy, that naughty boy, ruining it all. She would take out his eyes, yes. That's what she needs- the eyes of the naughty young and the blood of the good youths.

The Swamp Witch orders and she obeys.

She comes to the boy, he too sick to run. She tugs at him gently, pulls him up, the knife in one hand, her other poised to strike.

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><p>"Wolf, help me!"<p>

Luca screamed, called out, cried, as the woman lifted his head towards her. "Wolf, help!"

"The boy who cried wolf, you are such a naughty little boy," she cooed.

And just like that, one hand dug into his left eye. Pain! Pain! Pain!

Oh, it burnt, it hurt, it was red here and red there! Help! Help! Ah! Ah! Ah!

"Now, for the other," she continued, gently, softly, kindly.

Pain, pain, pain. It hurt so much- he was dying, he was dying!

And he fell to the ground, one eye missing, bleeding on the earth, the witch cursing and shouting in pain. He coul- Ah! Ah!- see; her hand was bleeding, bite marks- Ah! Ah!- and the dagger was - Ah! Ah- missing.

Wedged in the wolf's side- Ah! Ah!- the half-boy's face a mixture of surprise and horror.

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><p>Christine weeps. The Queen screams in pain, the eyeball squishing on the ground. She drops the boy, the little wolf's fangs sinking into her flesh. Yes! Christine cheers. Yes!<p>

The Queen plunges the knife down. Too late. It sinks into the child's side and he falls, a few seconds before the pain sets in. And he curls up and she screams. The blood of pure, good virgins- the blood of an impure wolf. No! No! No!

It is ruined. The dagger is tainted, ruined, ruined!

The children have their voice back and they scream. Scream with her. Horror! Horror! Horror!

The Swamp Witch cries out: No, Christine, no! We are ruined, ruined!

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><p>There was so much blood on his face. One hand over his missing eye, Luca stumbled and crawled, the red dripping, dripping. Dripping!<p>

His other eye was wet with salty water, the tears of pain leaking freely. The thorns cut at his legs as he made his way forward, the woman shrieking behind him. The other children clutched at their heads, doubling over on the thorned ground, howling and crying.

He put one hand on the shivering boy's arm. Wolf cast him a look, terrified.

"We're okay," Luca whimpered.

Wolf's fingers hovered above the hilt of the knife. All that blood. Slick and shiny in the dark, already busy staining his once fair clothes. The splotch spread, spread, and spread.

"S- see?"

He wrapped his unstained hand around the hilt and tugged, using all his strength to pull the thing out. And the steel glinted, coated with crimson. The wolf cried out, cold, sweaty hands latching onto Luca's sleeves.

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><p>She cannot restore the Swamp Witch's body. Not now, not any more. The Queen is hysterical, mad with rage.<p>

She sees the boys hug one another, the bed of thorns pricking at their shaking bodies. The dagger is rusting beside them, rusting from impure blood. She roars at them, roars incoherently, beautiful face contorting.

She makes her way to them- I'll kill you, I'll kill you both, I'll-

The mob files up, torches burning, voices calling, crying out, howling. Witch! Witch! Witch! They scream.

They surround her, pitchforks raised, fire waving, they want her blood. Mothers weep (Oh! Christine cries), fathers shout, neighbors roar.

Murderer! Witch! Demon!

Christine shouts Kill me, please! Kill me, kill me! But the Queen just laughs and she lets them set fire to her robe. She lets them stab at her and tear her apart, watches the blood pour and watches them rip her head off.

She is enchanted, she feels no pain, and soon she is gone.

She is again in one piece, unharmed, unscathed, the horrible, horrible, hor- lovely, wonderful Swamp enchantress by her side.

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><p>"Father, help us..."<p>

His vision darkening, Luca felt his father's arm around him, lifting him up. The man's tears were mixing with his blood. It hurt.

"Luca, I'm here- Luca, it's me."

The world was a horrible, misshapen mess, the thorns were gone and the grass was covered with blood. Arms still wrapped around the half-wolf's form, Luca let his father pull him- them- pull them both up.

And Wolf's breath was hot and shallow beneath his ear.

And his father's words were incoherent mumbles. And everyone was crying and screaming, screaming, screaming.

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><p>The Queen holds up the brown dagger. She hates wolves.<p>

It ruined the sacrifice, it ruined the blood-letting, it ruined her teacher's one chance at returning. She kisses the Swamp Witch's rotting face.

She is sorry that she failed.

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><p>Disoriented, Luca limped toward the wooden door. His head hurt and his eyelids throbbed. His body was riddled with little pains.<p>

The thick bandage over his head felt alien beneath his fingers and the gauze on his legs were scratchy and uncomfortable. But at least now his father knew he hadn't lied. Now his father could care less if he lied.

Wolf sat up from his pile of blankets, the makeshift semblance of a bed on the floor. Luca smiled, sitting down beside his friend. The half-wolf was busy tugging at the thick gauze around his waist; Luca slapped his hand away.

"Stop that- you'll re-open it!"

"But it's itchy and it hurts, it hurts very much."

"And that's why you've got to keep it on. Cripes- you really are an animal!"

The other boy's eyes briefly widened, the hurt obvious in his orbs. Luca rolled his one eye.

"I didn't mean it- well, I did, but not, you know, like that."

"You could be lying."

"I don't think I'll lie anymore- I- I feel different now."

"Luca, what does cripes mean?"

"Uh... it's just something I say when I'm upset- you know like, 'damn' but it sounds nicer."

"Oh."

"Anyway, father says you can't stay any longer- he feels kinda weird about saving you and all."

Wolf looked away. And Luca continued, "I made you a sack; it'll last a while, I hope. I gave you all my bread, and some clothes, oh, and there's a roll of bandages- you'll have to change them some time."

And Luca stopped when the wolf-boy dove into his lap, arms around his waist in an affectionate hug. And Luca tried not to weep.

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><p>The blood from Hamelin would sustain the Swamp Witch for just a while longer, a little longer.<p>

The Queen puts the knife down- it is useless to them now.

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><p>"Well, hurry up and leave before anyone finds out," Luca said, leading Wolf towards the village entrance.<p>

The sun was barely up and the only sound in the charred, broken remains of Clorin was the bleating of the surviving sheep. Luca felt his spine tingle when he saw the brown grass and blackened trees and broken walls and crumbling houses.

"Oh, cripes, Luca! You're the best human I've ever met."

Again, the half-wolf had his arms around him. "Honest, you are- thank you, thank you, thank you!" "Alright, now-" A low howl. "The very best Luca, and I'm sorry that I ate your sheep- honest, honest, I am!"

The sheperd boy hugged him back. "And you're not half-bad... for a wolf." The soft words were not a lie.

"Goodbye."

"Good luck."

And they parted.

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><p>The Queen looks through the cells. She needs someone to help her, someone obedient, someone useful.<p>

She wants the troll in cell ten or the blue bearded man in cell thirteen. Instead, Christine steers her toward the wolf.

She recognizes the wolf- anyone but him! She wants to kill him- she remembers him. She remembers the blood and the knife. She wants to kill him!

But Christine insists- him! him! Pick him!- and the Queen cannot help it. For a moment, she is she and she is she. She forgets about the dagger. She sees him vile and tainted- she sees the big, bad wolf in his stead.

Not him, anyone but him! But Christine is heard- she insists- him! pick him! It must be him!

And the Queen forgets. And Christine is gone.

"You, what are you?" she asks.

They do not recognize one another- she is the Queen, not the witch, and he is the wolfman, not the wolfboy.

And he grins.

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><p><strong>Hope you liked that, and feel free to review. <strong>


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